


A Hangover Cure

by DarkBlue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBlue/pseuds/DarkBlue
Summary: “Did I…say…anything embarrassing?”James only grinned hugely, and Remus winced.“Well…how drunk was I?” he managed.“I have never,” said James solemnly, “seen anyone drunker.”





	A Hangover Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Usually people will go for Sirius being the crazy drunk out of control one, so I thought I’d flip it. Prompted on tumblr by @teddymclupin.

_It must be the full moon,_  Remus thought dizzily, squeezing his eyes shut. The glare of the sun was peering in through the boarded up windows of the Shrieking Shack. He hadn’t felt this terrible from the potions they were trying on him in a long, long time. His head was on fire and his stomach was revolting. He must have swallowed a lot of werewolf venom from biting his own tongues and cheek. But strangely, his tongue didn’t feel swollen. Just huge and dry and terrible, like a dead slug.

The thought alone was enough to propel him upright, which was an instant mistake because he clapped his hands to his head and whimpered immediately. His vision swam, but he grew confused.  _Was he in the room? Merlin, had he messed up this badly?_ He couldn’t be in the room instead of the Shack! Professor Dumbledore would know he could escape the Shack, and his friends could get in trouble. Expelled, for sure, and perhaps imprisoned?

Remus staggered to his feet. He had to get to the Shack. He  _had_  to.

“Easy there, Moony,” said a cautioning, deafening voice.

It was James. James was always bad with volume control, but today he seemed to have forgotten how  _not_  to shout.

Remus squinted at him. “Wha-“ he tried to say, but his voice was nothing. A thready whisper. Like he had howled himself hoarse.

“Sirius and Peter went to get breakfast,” James shouted again.

“Shhh,” Remus said wildly, looking around the familiar dormitory. “Shh!”

“Oh, right,” said James, grinning unrepentantly. “You must be incredibly hungover.”

“Hung…over?” wheezed Remus, fighting down a huge wave of nausea. It didn’t help, he sprinted for the prop window, but couldn’t get it open in time. Instead he vomited on the floor. A true incredible amount of sludge was coming out of him.

“That’s disgusting,” said James cheerfully, vanishing the sick at once with his wand.

Remus vomited again, and James vanished it before it hit the floor. Remus wiped the back of his mouth with a hand and winced. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Here,” James had poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser.

Remus winced, nodding, and swallowed some. His whole body hurt, like after a full moon. His throat was dry and swallowing was difficult. He peered at James.

“It’s…not…the full moon?” he asked.

James actually laughed, and Remus dropped the glass, shattering it on the floor.

“Sorry,” James said, still grinning even as he summoned all the pieces together to spring into his hand. He put the glass back up on the dresser.

“’s not funny,” Remus mumbled, sinking into a sort of slump on Sirius’ trunk at the foot of the bed. Remus didn’t have a trunk to sit on, only a battered old suitcase with a deep-bottom charm.

“It’s a little funny,” James said.

“But it’s not the-“

“Full moon, no. Just a regular half moon.”

“Nnnnhnnnn,” said Remus coherently.

“We were all drinking last night,” James continued. “Remember? Peter passed out early. The lightweight,” he grinned.

“Nnnnhnnnn,” said Remus again.

“And you’ve never drank before,” said James with a cheerful edge of superiority. “And you know Sirius and I stole Dad’s Old Ogden’s from the house and got smashed in the basement over Easter.”

“Right,” said Remus, still cramming the tips of his fingers into the skin at his temples. His voice was so hoarse. “Water,” he croaked.

James poured him some more. “And don’t break this one,” he said mock-seriously. “I can’t be standing about all day. We’ve got Charms.”

Remus groaned so theatrically and angrily James actually laughed, which made Remus even testier and more furious with him. “What…happened?” he managed.

“Oh, well you know Sirius. He’s been served wine with dinner since he was about eight. And you were…you know…bragging you could keep up.”

Several things were coming back to Remus now. He hadn’t found the Firewhiskey to be that difficult to swallow, all things considered. Peter had been coughing and spluttering, but Remus had been downing foul-smelling and tasting potions his whole life. Next to most of them, firewhiskey was a walk in the park.

His friends had been fairly impressed, especially James who had been nearly as bad as Peter the first time he and Sirius had gotten drunk together. Remus had felt his tongue loosen up, his confidence raise, and before he knew it, he was challenging Sirius to a drinking contest.

Prudently, it seemed, James had stopped drinking around that time to be the judge.

“Did I win?” he asked James hopefully.

James laughed, and Remus felt his spirits plummet.

“Sort of,” James conceded. “Sirius stopped drinking when it was obvious you were too pig-headed to stop.”

“Whatdoyamean,” slurred Remus.

“We were fairly sure you’d drink yourself to death, if we let you,” said James, suddenly serious. “And we didn’t want to bring you to Madame Pomfrey. So Sirius called it a draw.”

Remus covered the rest of his face with the rest of his hands. “I’m so…stupid,” he mumbled finally.

“Seems like,” said James, grinning. “But we won’t lie. That ride or die instinct makes us like you more.”

Remus laughed weakly, but quickly stopped, because his head was killing him. A thought occurred.

“Did I…say…anything embarrassing?”

James only grinned hugely, and Remus winced.

“Well…how drunk was I?” he managed.

“I have never,” said James solemnly, “seen anyone drunker.”

“That bad?”

“Bad? Glorious. You were swearing to fight death eaters with only your left hand.”

“What?”

James laughed again. Remus wished he wouldn’t; his head was on fire.

“Yeah. And you were promising undying loyalty to all of us. You tried to shake Peter awake, but he was already snoring, and then you started crying because you said Peter didn’t love you.”

Remus smiled weakly, skin prickling with discomfort and mortification.

“Then you started bawling that Sirius didn’t love you.”

“Merlin.” Remus covered his eyes; his face was flaming. He was positive.

“Don’t worry, mate,” James said reassuringly, patting Remus’ head gingerly like one might pet a dog that was ill. “Sirius was super pissed too. He kept telling you that he loved you.  _Really_ loved you. And you kept telling him that you loved him but that he couldn’t love you because you were a werewolf.”

“Leave me to die,” mumbled Remus into his hands. He almost felt like crying.

“You definitely should not get that drunk in public,” agreed James, still grinning like a fool. “You’d let out your furry little problem in about two seconds.”

There was the slamming of the door to the tower, and the unsteady, plodding footsteps that could only be Peter on the ladderlike stairs to their dormitory. He was carrying a huge plate of toast.

“For soaking everything up,” he said to Remus, smiling wanly.

Peter looked terrible. For passing out first, he still looked wildly grey and hungover, his curly hair untidy and disheveled, revealing the two balding widow’s patches he had already started to form even at sixteen. His lips were white, but he was standing.

“I also brought coffee,” he said, holding up a thermos Peter had brought from home.

Remus felt his stomach revolt at the idea of food or coffee, and he shook his head miserably.

“Eat, Remus,” said James bracingly, waggling a piece of bread in front of Remus’ face.

Given that James had once spelled buttered toast to Remus’ face as a joke when they were younger, Remus grabbed the toast irritably and bit into it. His whole body seized up, and for a moment he thought he might be sick again. But then his jaw relaxed and he was able to chew, very slowly, and with his eyes shut.

“I’m never drinking again,” he said calmly.

James laughed. “We all said much the same, earlier this morning.”

Remus only took another bite of toast. Once his stomach had acclimated to things going into it instead of things coming out of it, it decided it was ravenous. Remus finished off four pieces of toast patiently before gesturing for coffee. By the time the door downstairs banged a second time, announcing Sirius’ soft tread (“padding feet”) on the stairs, Remus was feeling marginally more human.

Sirius was carrying a beaker full of smoking liquid. He looked at Remus and laughed. “You look like hell,” he told him cheekily.

“Hell wishes it looked like me,” Remus quipped back.

“Because you look so awful,” agreed Sirius.

“Exactly.”

“I brought the best hangover cure a cloak could steal.” Over Sirius’ other arm was the invisibility cloak.

“Hey,” said Peter petulantly. “How come I don’t get one?”

“Because you’ve had ten hours to sleep yours off,” said Sirius tartly. “And Remus would have drunk himself into the Black Lake.”

“Peter can have it,” said Remus kindly. “I’m feeling much better.”

Sirius and James had a wordless conversation over Remus’ head, which he blithely ignored in favor of sipping his coffee.

“Just a sip,” Peter whined. “Just one, and then Remus can have the rest.”

“Fine,” said Sirius unwillingly. “Just one sip.”

Peter took the beaker carefully in both hands and took a huge gulp. His face immediately blanched white, and Remus was sure he was going to be sick back into the beaker.

“It’s good,” Peter promised in a strangled voice, handing the cup to Remus. Almost immediately, Peter’s skin and face was drenched in sweat. Tears ran from his eyes. Snot from his nose. In seconds his hair was soaked damp, and he was dripping on the floor. Then he breathed in deeply, and he seemed to master himself, wiping his face on a sleeve.

“Disgusting,” said James cheerfully.

“I need to shower,” said Peter, wincing as he moved to the trunk at the foot of his bed. He cricked his neck. “I do feel better though,” he admitted.

Remus, making a horrified face, tried to hand the beaker to Sirius. “I’m just not going to Charms,” he told him.

“You  _have_  to,” said Sirius. “It’s exam review.”

Remus groaned and then downed the beaker in one go. It was truly horrible. It even rivalled some of the easier-to-swallow lycanthropy potions. He made a face, but didn’t need to retch.

Instantly, he felt the drawing of all the alcohol in his body screaming out his pores. He wiped his sweating eyelids even as he shivered. The evaporating alcohol was freezing. It felt like he had been drenched in a snowbank, even though it was May. He made a face.

“You look terrible,” said James again, looking over Remus. "Even worse than before."

“P-Peter's right. I-I-I need to sh-shower,” chattered Remus.

“Are you cold?” asked Sirius in amusement.

“C-cold,” agreed Remus.

“You’d better hurry, or we’ll be late for Charms,” said James.

“C-can’t move. T-too cold,” Remus mumbled, holding his own elbows. Remus used to always be cold before fifth year when he had grown to six foot two practically over a summer. Before that, he had been small and shrimpy, and nearly always cold.

“Come on then, you miserable ponce,” said Sirius, grinning ruefully as he slung a shoulder under Remus. They were all used to carrying Remus under his shoulders, usually around the full moon. They had become very good at it, even while walking down the very narrow stairs.

Remus’ jaw was chattering uncontrollably. He leaned heavily on Sirius, enjoying the warmth and body heat that Sirius always exuded: like the sun. It was one of Remus’ favorite things about him, that Sirius was always hot, even while Remus was always cold.

They went down a level to the shared bathroom, and Remus unslung himself quickly out of embarrassment, but he needn’t have worried. No one was there.

Sirius took him to one of the shower stalls, pushing back the curtain and helping Remus sit on the bench in the changing area before he turned on the water hot as it would go.

“Am I going to have to dump you in?” he asked mock-severely.

Remus grinned wanly at him, still shivering, but grateful for the steam starting to drift over him.

Sirius’ face shifted abruptly. “You know, you shouldn’t have tried to out-drink me.”

“I could, you know,” said Remus stubbornly.

“Yes, I know,” said Sirius honestly. “Because you wouldn’t quit.”

“I-“ Remus began half-heartedly.

“You’re too stubborn.”

Remus opened his mouth at the absolute unfairness of this statement. “ _I’m_  too-“

“Yes,” said Sirius unflinchingly. “It’s very annoying.”

Remus was getting fed up with this sort of treatment from  _Sirius_  of all people, and stood up to tell him so. He liked feeling taller, instead of lectured down to. But he staggered, his legs weak and shaky, and Sirius had to lean him, half-grinning, against the wall.

“Real slick,” Sirius noted.

“Shut up.”

“You remember much of last night?”

Remus blushed dully, feeling his skin still slick with alcohol sweat. But Peter was right. He did feel better. But he also felt strangely light-headed. Perhaps he hadn’t had enough toast. “Yes. A bit. And Sirius, I’m so-“

But Sirius didn’t let him finish. He surprised him, totally, utterly, by leaning forward and kissing him.

At least, Remus told himself it was a kiss. But really it felt more like Sirius mashing his face quickly against Remus and then drawing back, looking worried.

“What was that for?” Remus asked bemusedly.

He knew Sirius too well not to notice the crashing of his features, even while he smiled easily. “Oh, you know, just a quick kiss for my best mate. Kiss and make it better, isn’t that right?”

Remus also knew that Sirius had been taught that expression, but never experienced it. And suddenly, gut-twistingly, Remus wanted him to experience it.

“You’ve done it wrong,” frowned Remus.

“R-Remus, I’m sorry, I don’t know-“ Sirius began fumblingly, the twin spots in his cheeks flaring to life like lanterns.

But this time Remus moved slowly, gently, and Sirius grew flustered and confused at the tenderness – a concept he was not used to. Remus slid a hand over Sirius’ hair, the way he had always done before in jest. But this time, he tangled his fingers at the nape of his neck, and his other hand came up to clasp his jaw. He leaned forward, his eyes open, gaging Sirius’ reaction every fraction of an inch before at the last moment his eyes finally fluttered closed and he kissed him. Properly. The way Sirius  _should_  have kissed him the first time.

“I-“ stammered Sirius, his eyes popping open.

“Shut up,” murmured Remus against him, and then kissed him again.

And then again.

At some point, one of them thought to yank the shower curtain closed over the changing room, and Sirius straddled himself over Remus’ lap as they sank back onto the bench, Remus’ head against the cool tile, but his body suddenly very warm.

Light fingers, hesitant hands, skimmed over him. Then there was a breathless pause as Sirius drew back, looking down, and then deliberately slid his hand up and under Remus’ shirt.

The explosion of sensation was breathtaking. He bucked up under Sirius and then blushed at himself while Sirius laughed, pulling his own shirt off with a yank behind his head.

They had seen each other naked countless times of course, but this time, even with just shirts off, it was different. Remus was hesitant skimming Sirius’ sides, and he tickled his friend into laughter, breaking the mood. Hesitantly, checking if Remus was okay, Sirius leaned forward and licked a stripe up Remus’ neck.

Remus made a sound he was positive he had never made before, and Sirius grinned in fiendish delight, leaning forward to bite, to taste, to feel the range of expression Remus could shudder and groan under just his tongue and teeth. But hands stopped him.

“Stop,” panted Remus. “Stop.”

Sirius stopped.

“It’s too fast,” Remus panted.

“Too fast?”

“Yes,” said Remus, still very firmly.

“Are you upset?” Sirius asked in a small voice, clambering off and standing, feet wide.

Remus looked down at himself then back up at Sirius. “Obviously not,” he said mildly. “I just think it’s all too fast. And I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk.”

“I like still-drunk Remus,” said Sirius slyly.

“Oh, still-drunk Remus likes you too,” said Remus dryly. “But I didn’t need to be drunk for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me neither.”

They both laughed awkwardly as Sirius shifted his weight again.

“I’m going to the next shower over,” he said abruptly.

Remus felt his face tinge pink. He knew what Sirius meant. And he realized that even with the muffling sound the shower curtain sealed, they would both know what the other was doing.

For a moment, a dark, burning look came into Sirius’ eyes. It made Remus shiver, but not with fear. And then it was gone with a rueful laugh, and Remus shut the curtain behind Sirius, tapping it with the sealing spell spelled out on the tile:  _“Epoximise.”_

The curtain and spell sealed itself. Now no one could open it as a prank or by accident. Remus stripped quickly and stepped into the warm spray of the water. He was shivering uncontrollably, and the water seemed to burn his overly sensitive, flushed skin. He tilted his head against the cool tile, still whirling from the events.

Twenty minutes later, Sirius and Remus appeared scrubbed and fresh-faced in Charms.

“Kind of you to join us, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin,” squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick.

“You look loads better,” Peter whispered as Remus slid in beside him.

Remus and Sirius exchanged quick, furtive glances.

“It was all thanks to you, Pete,” said Sirius finally. “You really saved the day.”

“I did?” Peter’s face was brilliant and grateful for the praise.

“Toast and coffee,” beamed Remus, feeling giddy with pent-up excitement. “The best medicine.”

Peter didn’t sulk once all day.


End file.
